Mr Agent Carter
by LightAlpha25
Summary: Ever since Captain America: The Winter Soldier, it's been a huge mystery as to who Peggy Carter eventually married. Before the show Agent Carter even started, I was rooting for Dum Dum Dugan to be that man. The first season is over now, and it's still a mystery, but the episode "The Iron Ceiling" gave me hope. In any case, this is a series of one-shots for my favorite pair.
1. Chapter 1

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot One)**

Bullets whizzed past, pelting deadly indentions into the snow. Peggy fired rapidly back at the enemy, ducking behind a large tree just as quickly. A buckshot sounded to her right as Dugan fired from behind a large rock. Between the two of them, three or four enemy soldiers fell, but there were still plenty left.

"Blast it, Timothy, where's our ride?!" Peggy shouted, reloading her gun.

"Should be along any time now," he replied, firing another couple rounds.

"Well sooner rather than later would be preferable." She clicked the trigger of her empty gun. "I'm out."

"Not to worry," he said, pulling out a spare pistol. He tossed it to her and kept firing. "We can last a bit longer."

Peggy smiled a kept firing as well.

At last, a helicopter came for them, hovering just above the icy ground and providing them with some cover fire. All that was left was to make a run for it. Snow crunched underfoot as they ran, shots ringing out after them. But they were almost there. Peggy turned to get off one final shot before they boarded.

The whizz of a bullet rang in her ears as she felt it make searing contact with her skin. All of a sudden, there was blood running—or rather gushing—down her face. It stunned her for a moment and she stopped, her free hand flying to her forehead, pressing the wound. She looked at the blood dripping onto the snow beneath her. She was hit. She was hit in the head. Was she dying? What was dying supposed to feel like? She wasn't sure.

But just as suddenly, she felt herself being grabbed up and all but thrown into the helicopter. They ascended very quickly, and they were safe. Peggy still felt arms around her, but only numbly. She couldn't quite comprehend all the blood springing forth from her head. She couldn't tell whether she was dying, but she knew at any rate that she was probably going into shock.

And then she was lying on her back. Dugan was looking down at her. He was speaking to her. She tried to focus on his face, his voice. Goodness, she had never seen him look so scared.

"Peggy! Say somethin'. You gotta stay with me, alright? Peggy!"

She did little more than blink in response, still clutching her head, still trying to deal with the blood.

"God dammit!" he muttered, opening a canteen. He spilled its contents over her forehead, momentarily prying her hand away and pouring the water directly onto the wound, finally getting a look at it.

The cold water only seemed to awaken the pain further as it finally began to set in properly. It felt like some awful venomous creature had bitten a chunk out of her head. Sputtering, she shakily wiped her eyes with her less bloody hand. When she looked at Dugan again, he seemed much less frightened. In fact, he looked relieved. Did that mean she wasn't dying? Had the bullet only grazed her? Was she that lucky?

Dugan gave her a smile. "Cutting it kinda close there, Peg." As he spoke, he pressed a cloth to the wound, doing his best to stop the bleeding.

She winced, but gave him a weak smile, his friendly tone calming her. "Is my hair entirely ruined?" she joked, her voice a bit unsteady.

He chuckled. "Nothing a comb couldn't fix."

* * *

When they arrived at base, the bleeding was mostly staunched, and Dugan had wrapped her head in gauze. Nevertheless, she was in line to see the medic. He carried her straight from the helicopter to the doctor's tent. Despite her insistence that she was capable of walking, she gave a weak resistance. She had lost a lot of blood and was more than a little woozy.

In hindsight, Peggy knew she must have looked positively gruesome as Dugan carried her in, her head bandaged and her hair matted with drying blood. Doubtless it had been a startling image. But the doctor had stitched her up in no time, and soon enough she was in her own tent, resting.

Dugan looked in on her after he had gotten himself settled. "Knock knock," he said, coming in, "You still alive in here?"

Peggy smiled slightly. "Afraid so. Though I feel like a bloody mummy."

"A mummy?" he chuckled, "Only your head is wrapped up, Peggy?"

"Well, the morticians are on a lunch break." She managed a weak laugh, though it made her head throb.

He laughed again and pulled up a chair. "Did they feed you?"

"Oh yes. The finest rations money could buy. They just want me to stay off my feet now."

"Well, I agree."

"Hm. I wonder if you'd be so quick to agree if I were a big, tough man like yourself."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Nobody's tougher than you, Peggy. But nobody can shoot a gun right after they lose a quart of blood either."

She smirked a bit. "Well, just between us, I am rather worn out. Only it smarts a bit too much to go to sleep."

"We could see about some morphine, you know. That's some good stuff."

"Yes I know, and I already told the doctor I won't have any. Do you think I'd take a drop away from the poor souls out there who really need it? Please, it's only a flesh wound. A minor graze to the temple and nothing more."

"Suit yourself."

"You know I always do."

He laughed. "Oh I know. Anyway, at least try to get some rest. We'll need you on your feet tomorrow." He stood to leave. "Oh, and Peggy," he said before exiting, "for the love of God, don't ever scare me like that again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Two)**

The plane shook and jostled about in the air, making for a rather uncomfortable ride. Dugan was reclined, propped up against a pile of duffle bags. Peggy was sitting by his side, looking concerned.

"Really Peggy," Dugan chuckled, "will you stop hovering over me? I'm fine."

"Timothy, you've been shot. Are you really all that fine?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell; I'll give you that. But the bullet's out. The wound's clean." He chuckled again. "Cut me a break, will ya? You're acting like my mother."

"You had an excellent mother then," she said with a smirk. She tried to pull back his sleeve to look at the wound, but he caught her by the wrist.

He spoke slowly, smiling the whole time. "I'm. Fine."

She smiled back at him, but looked a little wistful. "Well you can hardly blame me for my concern. You gave me quite a fright, you know."

With a finger, Dugan pushed some of her hair away from her forehead, revealing the mark a bullet left there. "Well now I guess we're even." It was his turn to smirk.

She gave him a playful pat on his good shoulder. "Try to get some sleep." She readjusted his blanket a bit and stood. "We'll be in New York before you know it, and then there'll be no time to rest." She planted an absentminded but friendly kiss on his forehead and walked towards the back of the plane, her eyes secretly widening at what she'd just done.

There was a pause as Dugan let what just happened sink in. "Wait just a minute," he called.

Peggy froze. What was he about to say? Why on earth had she kissed him? Oh, why couldn't he have just ignored it? It had been just a little peck between friends. Hadn't it?

"Come back here please," she heard him say.

Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and stepped back over to him, putting on the most normal face she could manage. Her eyes widened slightly at the lipstick smudge she had left on his forehead, but she decided not to mention it just then. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

She smiled, relieved that he wasn't directly asking about the kiss. "We've dug bullets out of each other, Tim. You can ask me anything you like."

"Now that the fighting's pretty much over, what do you think you'll do with yourself? I mean, with your life?"

"Who says the fighting's over? I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D. will find all sorts of ways to get us shot at."

He scoffed good-naturedly. "You're dodgin' the question, Peggy."

"I am not. Only I hardly know. This war has been the pinnacle of my career, as wrong as that sounds. Now that everything is wrapping up, I'm not sure what I'll do with myself. Aside from S.H.I.E.L.D, I mean."

"Ever thought you might try civilian life?"

"What, like have a family? I don't know. I'd have to find a man first, and I can't say I've had many suitors, shocking though it may be." She chuckled. "Men seem to find me intimidating; can you believe it?"

He laughed. "Well then they're a bunch o' wimps is what they are."

She laughed with him. "Oh but I'm sure I'll find some way to occupy my time…What about you?"

"Ahh I dunno. Like you said, S.H.I.E.L.D. is gonna keep us busy, probably for the rest of our lives. Still, I wouldn't mind settling down just a little bit. Now that I've had my fun."

"Well it'll be easy for you, Timothy. Girls go mad for war heroes."

"Now _that_ sounds scary."

"Oh nonsense. You've been in a staring contest with death for years now and haven't blinked. Don't tell me a nice girl would have you on the run." As she spoke, she couldn't stop herself from leaning over and pushing his shirt aside, peeking at his wound again.

He didn't stop her this time. "…If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were just trying to get a look at my muscles."

She pulled away. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, slightly flustered, turning to leave.

He laughed as she walked away. "Do I not get another kiss?" he called after her.

"You have lipstick on your forehead," she called back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Three)**

Peggy tapped on the open door of the Chief's office and smiled. "How are you settling in?"

Dugan turned from the filing cabinet he was browsing through. "Well, the last guy kept decent records at least." He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. "But that's about all I can say. Whether I go stir crazy in here or not, only time will tell."

"The job will be more exciting than it seems now, trust me."

Dugan was about to reply when Agent Sousa came up to the doorway. "Here's the report you asked for, sir," he said, handing the file over. Dugan took it with a nod. Sousa then gave a polite smile to Peggy and went about his business.

"Well, it looks like you're settling in nicely. Do let me know if you need anything," she said, going about her business as well.

* * *

Peggy was just gathering up her coat when she crossed paths with Sousa again. "Goodnight, Daniel," she said kindly.

"Goodnight, Peggy…Say Peggy, if you're not doing anything—"

"What's the hold up, Pegs?" Dugan, with his coat slung over his shoulder, was already halfway out the door.

Peggy shot him a chastising look. "I'm sorry, Daniel. We were just going out for a drink. Would you care to join us?"

"No, no that's alright. I've got work tomorrow and, uh, three's a crowd anyway, so…"

"It's honestly not like that. We're just good friends. You'd be more than welcome."

"Maybe next time. But thank you. And I hope you enjoy yourself," he said sincerely.

Peggy smiled fondly at him. "See you tomorrow then."

"See you then." He smiled back courteously.

* * *

"Well, _he's_ got it pretty bad for you," Dugan commented as they strolled down the sidewalk.

"Who? Daniel? I don't know about that. We've certainly had our differences in the past."

"He watched you walk away with the saddest puppy dog eyes I've ever seen. I was nearly brought to tears," he teased.

She playfully smacked his arm.

"Hey, that arm's still tender, ya know," he said, unable to contain a chuckle.

"Oh buck up. It's too cold out here to feel anything anyway. Ah, but here's our escape from the night air."

They reached a pub just then and she yanked open the door. They both dodged inside, letting the warm atmosphere soak into their skin. Sitting down at the bar, Peggy ordered a lemon drop martini. Dugan ordered a bottle of whiskey.

"Heavens above, Timothy."

He smirked. "It's for both of us."

In a whirlwind of bar food and stories about the good old days, Peggy found herself locked in a battle of wills against her dearest drinking buddy, Dum Dum Dugan.

"Peggy, I'm bigger than you, and I've got way more experience drinking. I'm not even phased yet, but you, I can tell, your eyes are starting to glaze over. You can't win."

"I've just about had it with men saying that to me. I'm a grown person, and I can do anything I set my mind to. Now come on, set us up again."

He sighed and filled their glasses one more time. The bottle was nearly empty. On the count of three, they both downed their whiskey, wincing audibly as it burned their throats.

Peggy smiled as it settled, and she took a deep breath through her nose. "I know it's not very seemly, but it feels nice to get good and drunk once in a blue moon." She propped her head up, elbows on the bar, and looked around drowsily.

"I know what you mean," Dugan replied, stretching his arms comfortably.

"The downside is I'm sure to regret it in the morning," she muttered. Then she sat up. "We ought to do something fun. Tonight, before I wake up with a monstrous headache and hate myself for it."

Dugan started laughing.

"What? What is it?"

"You're really smashed, aren't you?"

"Do I sound ridiculous?"

"Nah, just cute."

"…But aren't I always cute?" she quipped.

"Well, you got me there." He laughed again. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"No but really, Timothy; I want to do something fun."

"Like what?"

She thought for a moment, then began putting her coat on. "Come on, follow me. We'll catch a cab."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm afraid that's classified, Mr. Dugan."


	4. Chapter 4

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Four)**

So there they were, shivering on the front porch of a very nice house, Dugan looking over his shoulder as Peggy attempted to jimmy the lock on the door.

"I didn't know breaking and entering was your cup o' tea, Pegs."

"Oh pish posh. I'm doing no such thing. This is Howard Stark's playhouse, and I happen to know he is currently in Australia. And he and I are friends. He certainly won't mind this." The lock finally clicked. "Ah-hah! There it is. I've still got it," Peggy congratulated herself as the door swung open, "After you."

They walked into a small but luxurious foyer. Just then, the freezing wind picked up and closed the door behind them. Dugan sighed and flipped on a light switch. "Well, what now?"

"I don't know actually," Peggy said with a laugh, "Really I just wanted to see whether I could pick Howard's fancy lock while inebriated. And I'm proud to say I can."

Dugan started to look around. "Dang, this is a nice place." The wind howled and he glanced out the window. "And it looks like we got in just in time. It's a regular blizzard out there now."

She joined him at the window. " _Blizzard_ might be a touch dramatic, but we jolly well can't walk through that. I don't care to anyway, not in these shoes."

"Are you suggesting we stay here?" Dugan looked vaguely uncomfortable. Whatever a "playhouse" was, he was pretty sure he shouldn't be staying in it.

"I feel sure Howard wouldn't mind. Come on. The bedrooms are this way. You can pick which one you like."

She started to head up the stairs. Dugan followed. "You sure know your way around the place," he commented.

"I've stayed here before."

He didn't reply.

"Oh, no," Peggy explained, "I used this place as a safe-house when I was working on the Leviathan case. Howard had fled the country at that point."

Dugan's smile returned and he rolled his eyes. "Ah."

"Here we are. What do you think? Does it suit you?"

"It's a little too nice for me, I think," he replied, stepping in and looking around.

Out of curiosity, he opened the wardrobe next to the bed. In it hung several costumes: a nurse, a policeman, some kind of strappy leather thing…

Dugan cleared his throat and shut the wardrobe. "Uh, on second thought, I'll just take the couch downstairs."

* * *

It still wasn't too late, and so they found a deck of cards and helped themselves to a bottle of sherry—though by now Peggy had regained a little sense and only took a few tiny sips from her glass. Nevertheless, the whiskey had already greatly lowered her inhibitions.

"Go fish," she said with a smile. As he drew from the deck and sorted his cards, however, her smile faded. "Timothy?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think any man will ever want me? I mean, I don't depend on it or anything, but…I don't _really_ want to grow old alone."

Needless to say, he was surprised at her question. "Aww Peggy, what are you worried about? A classy dame like you? Aren't the guys clambering to get in line?"

"Not at all. Nobody's shown any real interest since Steve."

"That can't be true. What about that, uh…what's his name…the puppy dog— _Sousa_. I saw him making eyes at you, remember?"

"Daniel is nice. I'm not really sure I like him in that regard though…"

"Well, he's no Steve Rogers."

"No. But I don't want to compare all other men to Steve…Do you think that's part of the problem? Does the whole world see me as Captain America's girl?"

"Ahh well…maybe. I won't lie; that's the way I thought of it for a long time after he died."

She slumped back and sighed. "Well, I suppose my goose is cooked then."

"Now don't get all down on me. There's nothing worse than a sad drunk."

"Not even an angry drunk?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Well, at least angry drunks cause a bit of excitement."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Well…I daresay it's time for bed. Or couch, in your case. Weather permitting, we still have to go to work in the morning."

He gathered up the cards as she stood and straightened herself. "Goodnight, Timothy." She patted his shoulder and headed towards the stairs.

"Night."

She knew she was a bit unsteady, and she tried her best to simply focus on making it to the handrail on the stairs. Alas, she focused a tiny bit too much on the handrail and not quite enough on her next step. And quite suddenly she was on the floor, and somewhat shocked to be there. Peggy couldn't help but laugh, however, when she felt Dugan help her to her feet.

"Golly, I must be a bit more snockered than I thought."

He laughed with her. "Yeah well, that's what you get when you try to outdrink the master."

He pulled her up, and as easily as that she was in his arms. Their eyes met. Peggy felt as though she were caught in some kind of limbo all of a sudden. She couldn't bring herself to pull away, and he wasn't letting go.

She kissed him. She didn't think about it. She just…wanted to. It wasn't an overtly passionate kiss, but it was genuine and on the lips. It was not the sort of kiss that could be laughed off afterwards.

When she began to realize that he was truly reciprocating, she pulled away suddenly with a gasp. "Wait, no. No, no. This could ruin everything, Timothy. You don't care for me this way. I'm like your little sister. It could ruin our friendship—"

He didn't let her finish, pressing his lips to hers again, much more firmly this time, much more passionately. One of his hands drifted up to her head, locking her in place. With his other arm squeezed hard around her waist, there was no way she could escape this kiss. It left her positively breathless.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily. Peggy leaned her back against the stairwell. Dugan hovered in front of her, his hand next to her against the wall, propping him up. For a tense moment, they just looked at one another and caught their breath, letting the situation sink in.

Then Dugan laughed. "Little sister, my foot. I've never once looked at you like a sister."

* * *

 **Hello my lovely readers :)**

 **I hope you're enjoying my story. Feel welcome to comment/follow/favorite, just whatever you like. I'm having a wonderful time writing this stuff for you.**

 **To the reader who's been good enough to comment thus far: I'm aware of the facts and theories surrounding Peggy and her man. However, this is fanfiction. I could pair her with Peter Pan if I wanted to. While I appreciate anyone who comments on my stories, I would like to remind everyone that there is a certain etiquette we should hold to. Telling a writer that her pairing is incorrect is entirely unproductive. The general rule here is that if a story displeases you, you simply stop reading it.**

 **Now don't take me too harshly. Anyone who reads what I write is special to me. I'm not mad, and I do understand. But manners matter, and that's all I can say. The story shall go on.**

 **I hope you all like this particular chapter. It's pretty much my favorite so far.**

 **All my love.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Five)**

The first thing she was aware of was how dry her mouth was. She could barely swallow. But the next realization was far more painful as she felt her head throb and her stomach turn. She hadn't even opened her eyes and already she was having a horrible day. This was the reason she so seldom overindulged in alcohol.

Alcohol was a very cruel mistress.

Groggily, she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her watch, squinting at its face. It was nearly 11:00 a.m. She gasped and practically leapt out of bed, instantly regretting the sudden movement, but equally determined to make up for lost time. Pushing aside how horrible she felt (and ignoring the brief where-the-hell-am-I-and-how-did-I-get-here feeling), she threw on her clothes and ran a comb through her hair before hurrying downstairs.

"Where's the fire, Peggy?"

She stopped cold in her tracks. The previous night was a little fuzzy, and she wasn't entirely positive that it hadn't been a dream, but hearing his voice brought all the feelings back. She felt a bit awkward as she turned around.

Dugan's ever-smiling face greeted her. He wore pants with suspenders and a plain white undershirt, and he was drinking coffee out of a teacup.

"Timothy…" She put her hand to her forehead. "Why are you here? Why didn't you wake me? We've practically missed half a day already."

"Look out the window."

She did so. White was all she saw. "…I suppose we're having a snow day then."

"Looks that way. Not that I mind it. I always liked snow days…No offense, Pegs, but you look awful."

She groaned, letting her hangover catch up with her again. "Well I feel bloody awful." She put aside her things and sat at the table near him.

He chuckled and poured her a cup of coffee. "You drank like a darn Ruskie last night." He sat down with her and watched as she picked up her cup. "I will warn you, that coffee is not my best work."

She took a sip and winced at the acrid bitterness. "Oh…well…I'm sorry, I can't disagree." She gingerly sat her cup aside.

"Well anyhow, give me a second and I'll have something for you to eat."

"No, that's alright. I'm…not really that hungry."

"You should still eat something if you can. Trust me, it's hard nursin' a hangover on an empty stomach."

"Well I guess you'd be the expert." She offered a weak but playful smile.

"Between the two of us, I know I am." He smiled and slipped back into the kitchen, returning moments later with slightly burnt toast. "I burned it on purpose," he said in response to her smirk, "It helps. Quit sassin' me and just eat it."

"Won't you have any?" she asked, picking up a piece.

"Nah. I've been up for a while. Scouted through the place. There's enough food and everything. We could last a few days here easy if it came to it."

"Do you think we'll be snowed in for that long?"

"I doubt it, but at least we're set."

"Right…Timothy? About my drinking like a Ruskie last night…I believe I remember everything, but I can't be sure how much of it was just a dream. Did…anything out of the ordinary happen?"

The look on his face in that moment was positively devious, but he didn't answer. Instead, he stepped over to her, leaned down, and kissed her. It was gentle, but there was no shyness, no hesitation. Her skin tingled ever so slightly as he stroked her jawline with his thumb.

She opened her eyes slowly after he pulled away. "…Well I guess that answers that question."

He chuckled and sat down.

"So, none of it was a dream then…" she continued, "…In that case, I seem to recall behaving very badly." She met his eyes, feeling embarrassed.

He only smiled. "Oh you were a regular vixen. Took a lot of self-control on my part."

"I tried to unbutton your shirt…" She groaned and put her head in her hands.

He laughed. "Yes you did. And I enjoyed it, believe me." He shrugged. "But I am a gentleman, and you _were_ drunk out of your wits."

"Well I can't thank you enough for that. Gosh, I made a fool of myself. Honestly, I swear I'm not—"

"Relax. I know. Don't worry about it." He winked and took another sip of the harsh coffee.

* * *

 **A special hello to my most recent comment-makers :)**

 **I appreciate you very much DragonGatz. I'm glad you're enjoying and I thank you for the encouragement.**

 **And many thanks to pougan shipper for your enthusiasm. I don't know where I'd be without people like you.**

 **I hope to hear from the both of you again, as well as anyone else :)**

 **I wanted you two and anyone else reading to know this: As a writer, I often feel I have a tendency to buzz through things quickly, and so I might miss delicate little details or small moments that could benefit my stories. For this reason, I always offer my readers the option of requesting scenes that they would like me to write. I think of them as "deleted scenes" or "bonus chapters," if you will. Since this story is just a bunch of one-shots, it's on the short side, and so I'm sure there will be plenty of room for deleted scenes. I'm open to any and all requests :)**

 **All my love.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Six)**

"Good morning." Peggy smiled and nodded to Dugan in a friendly but professional manner, not slowing her pace as she headed towards her desk.

Dugan, who was standing at the entrance of a room full of filing cabinets, grabbed her by the arm—"Good morning," he said—and yanked her into the room, closing the door behind them.

She could barely process what was happening before he was kissing her. For an instant, she kissed him back, but then quickly pushed him away. "What do you think you're doing?" she scolded in a whisper.

"I think it's pretty obvious," he whispered back, planting a kiss by her ear.

She pushed him back again. "And what if someone sees us, hmm? What then?"

"I don't really care. It's no fun hiding it."

"Timothy, really, we're professionals. It would look bad if I were in a relationship with my boss."

"Come on, Peggy." He brushed his fingers against her face. "Let's drop the act. You love me, don't you?"

"That's beside the point."

"Don't you?" he said playfully, "Come on. Say it."

She couldn't stop a brief smile. "Alright, of course. Yes, I love you. But I'd like to keep it professional—"

He swept her into another kiss before she could go on. And gosh darn it, Peggy didn't know what it was, but something about him made it just impossible to resist.

But then the door opened.

She instinctively pushed Dugan away, and he took a step back, but it was too late. There stood Agent Daniel Sousa, as wide-eyed as could be. Peggy watched his face change from surprise, to realization, to disappointment. There was no excuse she could give him. They were caught.

Might as well grin and bear it.

She cleared her throat and smiled politely as she exited the room. "Good morning, Daniel."

He didn't reply, but let her pass and watched her go, then glanced back at Dugan, who smiled and greeted him with a nod.

* * *

"I don't think I've ever had a more awkward day at the office," Peggy recounted over a glass of lemonade, "Not even when they suspected me of treason."

Dugan rolled his eyes. "It can't possibly be that bad."

"Goodness though, did you see his face?"

He laughed and gave a satisfied nod. "I sure did."

"It's not funny. The poor man was horrified."

He kept chuckling.

"And now we're a scandal."

"I still don't see what's so bad." He glanced at the menu. "More than anything, I think they'll all just be heartbroken that they don't have a chance with you anymore."

"Oh be serious."

"I'm bein' serious. You're a looker, sweetheart, and you know it. Every agent in that place has been secretly drooling over you since the minute you walked in."

"How is it that you can sense that and I can't?" she asked with sarcastic seriousness.

"Well, I'm a man, for one thing. I know how they think."

Oh, well naturally." She smirked.

The waitress came by and Dugan ordered a cheeseburger. "Anyway, what do you care? It's none of their business who you go with."

"Fair point. But don't you think it's a bit awkward? Since we're colleagues?"

"They'll get over it, Peggy."

* * *

 **I'm so excited to have more comments!**

 **Spitfire303, the idea that I may have converted someone onto my ship…it's thrilling. I'm so glad you like it :)**

 **And my dear anonymous Guest, I completely agree. Before I had any idea that they were going to make a TV show for Peggy Carter, all I knew was that she married someone who Cap rescued. My mind immediately to his Commandos, because he rescued them first and the audience was most familiar with them. And of the Commandos, Dugan is my absolute favorite. And I sincerely think they make a good match. But if it doesn't work out and she gets paired with someone else in the end, at least I'll always have this fanfiction. Glad you find it interesting :)**

 **I'm thankful for all of my readers.**

 **All my love.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Seven)**

It was very nearly summer in New York, and the city was abuzz as usual. As had been his custom for several months now, Dugan walked Peggy home after work. This time, however, he took her along a somewhat longer route.

"Why have we changed course?" she asked, "Are you taking me somewhere?"

"Nope. Taking you home like always. I'm just taking the scenic route this time."

"I see. Well, it is rather scenic, I suppose." She smirked as she nodded towards a row of dumpsters.

Dugan only rolled his eyes, and they kept walking. He stopped them when they reached a jewelry store and peered at the window display. "Think you might want one sometime?" he asked, nodding at the rings.

"Oh, I don't know," she replied, maintaining an air of nonchalance, "I guess it's not out of the question."

There was a pause as Dugan considered whether that was a positive enough answer, but before he could say anything further, an alarm went off in the store, startling them both. Through the window, they could make out movement, then yelling could be heard, and then a gunshot.

Dugan suddenly pushed Peggy down the sidewalk. "Go down to that payphone and call the police," he ordered.

"And just what are _you_ planning to do?" She could see it in his eyes. He was planning to go in there.

"I'm gonna give 'em a little time to get here," he replied, still pushing her. Then he was off.

Now Peggy was torn. Of course the police had to be notified, but she didn't want Dugan charging into action without her either. Seeing a young woman passing by, Peggy grabbed her.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" the lady asked.

"Please, I need you to call the police," Peggy answered, holding her by the shoulders, "Go down to that phone and tell them there's a robbery here." She shooed the woman along and then ran after Dugan.

There was no movement just inside the shop. Peggy looked around silently. Behind the counter, she found a body—a man dressed all in black, wearing a mask. One of the robbers. She took his gun.

As she went towards the back of the store, she heard voices. One of them was Dugan's. "Come on, compadre. Don't do anything stupid."

She peeked around the corner. Dugan was standing over the other robber, who was struggling under the weight of the Irishman's boot, trying to reach for a gun that lay a hopeless inch from his grasp. Peggy strode up and kicked it farther away, pointing her gun at the man's head.

"Give it up," she said, "The police are on their way."

"In that case," said a shaky voice from behind her, "we better be moving along."

She turned, gun at the ready, only to find another gun pointed at her head.

"Drop it!" threatened the third man in black.

"You drop yours!" Peggy answered.

"Now look, I don't wanna shoot a lady, alright? But I can't go back to jail…You." He pointed the gun at Dugan. "Big guy. Let him go."

Dugan chuckled slightly. "Uh, how 'bout you drop that gun, or I squish his head?" He pressed his boot harder into the man's face.

"Stop that! Hey, I ain't afraid to shoot a man!" He took an aggressive step forward.

Peggy seized the opportunity and lunged at him, forcing the gun out of his hand and punching him in rapid succession. She then put her gun to his head.

Dugan grinned at her. "I love watchin' you work."

She smirked in return, never taking her eyes off of the perpetrator. Police sirens blared in the distance.

* * *

Soon enough, they had resumed their walk towards Peggy's apartment.

"Well that was fun," said Dugan.

"Oh yes. A good bit of exercise," Peggy replied.

There was a short but pleasant silence as Dugan's thoughts turned back to his previous endeavor. "Now what were you telling me about those rings? You were saying you wanted one, right?"

Her smile faded. "…I was saying I didn't know. If we're talking about marriage, well, I'm just not sure how realistically it would fit into my life. Or yours, for that matter. We're agents of S.H.I.E.L.D."

" _Top_ agents," he corrected. There was another pause. "Ah, come on, Pegs. What would change anyway, except that we wouldn't have to split up after I walked you home?"

Peggy was quiet for a moment. He let her collect her thoughts. Finally, she stopped walking and faced him. "Timothy, why would you want to marry me in the first place?"

He scoffed good-naturedly. "Because I'm in love with you."

"Yes, but… _why_?"

He chuckled and pulled her a little closer. "Because I love the way your face lights up when someone says 'it might be dangerous.' I love the way you're so above all the crap everyone gives you. And I think it's pretty sexy the way you handle a gun."

She couldn't help but smile at that last part.

"I couldn't help but fall for you, Peggy. You can't blame me."

"Well…" She smirked. "…no, I guess I can't."

"So what d'ya say?"

"I suppose I…wouldn't be averse to a ring, if someone offered it." She felt a blush start to creep into her cheeks.

Dugan smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye, and got down on one knee. Peggy gaped as he pulled a little box out of his pocket and opened it up to her.

He spoke every word very deliberately. "Agent Margaret Carter, will you marry me?"

"Oh, Tim…" she said softly, "…Alright. Yes." She smiled brightly. "Yes, I'd love to marry you."

His smile got even bigger—if that were possible—and he leapt to his feet, grabbing her up in his arms. They held each other in a long embrace, Dugan all but crushing her in his strong arms. She smiled into his chest. When they finally pulled apart, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I don't know what's come over me," she said as she pulled back, looking into his happy eyes.

"It's called love, sweetheart. Might as well get used to it."

* * *

 **My darling readers :)**

 **Spitfire303, I know I wasn't very nice to Sousa. He's a super guy and I think highly of him and all, but in pretty much any story I write, I really enjoy letting the guy who gets the girl have an opportunity to be a little smug.**

 **Pougan shipper, I know right! They have good chemistry and you're so right about him being sexy. And I LOVE how you mentioned that he's so different from Steve, but has the same heart. What a beautiful way to put it. That's so true!**

 **To all of you, I'm completely delighted that you're enjoying this. As of right now, I'm working on Shot Eight, but after that one, I'm not sure where to take it, or if I should just stop there. You guys are more than welcome to help me decide.**

 **All my love.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Eight)**

Pale morning light streamed into the room, illuminating the four-poster bed and the couple still sleeping on it. A bowler hat hung nonchalantly from the bottom right post, and the white sheets dangled haphazardly near the floor on one side.

Peggy awoke to the same sound she had fallen asleep to: her husband's light snoring. She also realized that his arm was draped over her. They had both slept on their backs, and so his arm lay across her stomach, his hand resting at her left hip. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she turned her head towards him and smiled. Though perhaps it would take her a little while to adapt to sharing a bed, she couldn't help but adore the big, snoring creature she awoke next to.

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly as the reality of the situation seeped in. She was on her honeymoon, in a hotel room near Niagara Falls, and nobody in this room currently had any clothes on. Still smiling, Peggy took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes again, running her hand lazily across Dugan's arm. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more at ease. The wedding had been a small affair. No stress. Angie had been her maid of honor, Howard Stark the best man, and the guest list had consisted of work colleagues and Howling Commandos. There was a reception, but she and her new husband hadn't attended. She smirked. Their friends had surely managed to have a good time without them.

What had her blushing was all that had followed, and now here she lay in the wonderful aftermath of it all. And besides all that, there wasn't any crisis that needed her attention. No disaster she had to rush into, for the moment anyway. She could literally lie in this bed all day and the free world would remain intact. In fact, that sounded quite tempting. Peggy was on a well-deserved vacation, and she was beginning to believe that she could embrace it.

She had just begun to slip back into a comfortable doze when a sudden movement startled her awake. As her eyes flew open, she became aware of an intense pressure on her left hip. It was him, she realized. Where a moment ago his hand had been gently resting, now he was clutching her hip like his life depended on it. And goodness, he had a firm grip. With a slight grunt, she wiggled out of his grasp and quickly turned to face him. He was still asleep, but now his breathing was more erratic and his muscles were clenching. And his face was almost heartbreaking. His eyes were squeezed shut and he had an awful grimace on his face. He looked so distressed, as if he were watching someone he loved die.

It occurred to Peggy that that might be precisely what was happening. Dugan was a soldier. He had seen action. It was pretty common for a man who had seen war to relive it in his nightmares. It brought a bit of a lump to her throat to see it happen to him, though. Even out in the field, she had rarely seen him without a bit of a twinkle in his eye. To see him in pain like this made her stomach twist.

Putting a hand on his chest, she pressed nearer to him. "Timothy," she attempted, "Timothy, darling…" She tapped his face with the flat of her hand. "Wake up."

Gaining no response, she got bolder. Sitting up, she took hold of his shoulders and shook him, repeating what she'd said before. Still, nothing. Spying a glass of water on the nightstand, she leaned over and dipped her fingers into it. She then flicked the droplets into his face. Inhaling suddenly through his nose, Dugan startled awake, his eyes fluttering open and darting everywhere. He didn't make a sound, only breathed heavily through his nose, his muscles rigid. Peggy watched him carefully, and after a moment, he met her gaze. She held it, barely blinking, and she could see it all play out on his face as he realized where he was and who he was with. The look of relief in his eyes allowed her to release her breath. She put a gentle hand to his face and smiled slightly as he immediately covered it with his own.

"You're alright, Timothy," she said softly.

He quirked a small smile of his own, though his eyes looked a bit watery now. He took one last deep breath. "I'm better than alright, Peggy. Look who I'm wakin' up to."

Her smile brightened at that, but it didn't shake her concern. "Would you like some water or something? Would you like to talk about it?"

"No to both; thanks, sweetheart, I'm okay." He stretched his arms and then wrapped them around her, bringing her forehead to his own and running a hand over her hair. "We're safe here together, and that's all I care about."

Peggy breathed him in and let herself enjoy his heavy hand as it stroked her head. She knew there wasn't much she could do if he didn't want to talk about it, and he obviously didn't. The best she figured she could do now was take his mind off of whatever he had dreamt. She kissed him, pressing against him fully, her eyes sliding closed as their lips met. The single tear that hit his pillow escaped her notice.

She smiled into their kiss as she felt his strong arms pull her closer still, his hand gliding up and down her spine. There now. She could practically feel his bad memories slipping away, every ounce of his focus shifting to her. She broke the kiss.

"What shall we do today, Timothy?" she asked coyly, "I was thinking perhaps we should be lazy." She stroked his face and ran her fingers through his hair. "We could stay in bed all day. What do you think of that?"

His sharp blue eyes brightened immensely, and he sighed, beginning to roll her onto her back. "I'm one lucky son of a gun," he said. He kissed her neck, eliciting a giggle from his wife, and was just thinking of kissing the rest of her when a loud knock on their door interrupted.

They both froze, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. Another knock followed shortly, however, along with a voice.

"Chief?" The man cleared his throat. "Chief…listen, I know you're on your honeymoon, but it's urgent. This is Jack Thompson. Open up."

A most unwelcome voice.

Dugan sighed heavily into Peggy's shoulder. "Damn," he muttered, pulling away from her.

She felt the absence immediately, and suddenly anger was bubbling up into her chest. Perhaps more anger than was necessary, but she couldn't help it. This was _not_ supposed to happen. This was her honeymoon. The one time in her life when she truly expected S.H.I.E.L.D to leave her out of it. Was one undisturbed week really too much to ask? Could they not function that long without them?

Whatever the answers to those questions were, Peggy couldn't bring herself to tolerate this interruption. A wave of stubbornness consumed her all of a sudden. She was not getting out of this bed. She watched, brows furrowed, as Dugan half-dressed and answered the door, but she refused to so much as throw on a robe. Instead, she merely made certain that the sheets were covering her, and then propped up on one elbow, ready for the scene to unfold before her.

Thompson was soon face to face with an unsmiling Dugan, who was barefooted and bare-chested, in black pants with the suspenders hanging around his hips. The shorter man swallowed and forced himself to make eye contact with his superior.

"This had better be good, Thompson," Dugan said evenly.

"Of course, sir. Um…" Jack's train of thought derailed when he caught sight of Peggy over Dugan's shoulder. She was lounging in bed, her form only just covered by the sheets, and her eyes were boring into his, conveying both her interest and irritation.

"Hey." Dugan snapped once in front of Jack's face, drawing his attention back to him. "You look at me, not her. Now say what you have to say; what's this all about?"

Thompson straightened. "Sir, there's been an attack."

* * *

 **Dearest readers :)**

 **I hope you've enjoyed. You made it clear to me earlier on that you wanted me to keep this story going, and so I will. I've received one request so far (thank you to 93MANIAC for that), so there will be at least one more one-shot. I'm open to more requests, so if you have one, don't be shy.**

 **On that note, if you are wondering what attack Jack Thompson is talking about, I will admit…I don't know. So if you want me to build on that, you guys will have to help me think of what to do for it.**

 **A special thank you to Spitfire303 for commenting so consistently, and to my most recent anonymous Guest for your input. I'm delighted to have your support.**

 **All my love.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Nine)**

It was silly. It was just silly to feel this way. After all that they had shared, after all that they'd been, she was afraid to say this one little sentence. And why? She had faced down Hydra, treason accusations, and countless men with guns. Why did this have her crying alone in the bathroom? Well, because it meant change, a big change that would take a lot of control out of her hands. The truth was…she was scared.

Peggy rested her face in her hands, her elbows supporting her against the kitchen table. It was still early. The sun was only just peeking through the blinds. It would be another couple of hours before they were expected at headquarters. But everything was going much too fast in her mind.

What will he say? What will we do about work? This will get in the way. This could even be dangerous. Will he try to make me resign?

Should I resign on my own?

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard their alarm clock go off in the bedroom. She'd forgotten all about it. She hadn't slept a wink. The thought of her husband walking into the kitchen any minute now really sent her mind into a spin.

How should I say it? Right out, or small talk first? Should I wait until after work? Or tomorrow? Why am I handling this so poorly? Why couldn't I just step up an say it, like a professional?

"There's nothing professional about it," she muttered to herself.

No, this was utterly private.

When she heard his footsteps approaching, Peggy grabbed her coffee mug and tried to look natural, though she winced when she took a sip. She'd let it go cold.

And then there he was, in his long pajama bottoms and loosely tied robe, looking sleepy but friendly.

She put on a smile and stood up. "Good morning, darling."

He walked up to her and kissed her forehead. "Morning." There was a short silence as he glanced around and woke up a bit more. "Since when do you make the coffee?" he asked, smiling. He reached for a mug and then for the coffee pot.

"Oh…well," she said as he poured himself a cup, "that's not really…" She watched as he took a gulp and made a face. "…good anymore," she finished.

He looked at the coffee pot for another moment. "Peggy…how long have you been up?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know really. Just a little while. Two, three…" She shrugged, not making eye contact. "…six hours. Hard to say, honestly. I haven't been watching the time."

"You mean to tell me you've been up all night?"

"It's not impossible." She stared at the bowl of fruit on the table.

"Pegs," he said, concern in his voice, "What's wrong? Why the heck didn't you wake me up?" As he spoke, he put an arm around her and guided her into making eye contact.

Her words crashed around inside her head, but none of them seemed able to reach her mouth. "…I…Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

He took her face in both hands now, looking into her eyes. "Peggy, baby, have you been crying? What on earth's the matter?"

How might she put it delicately? Or would he better appreciate hearing it bluntly? Why was she nervous in the first place? She was stronger than this.

Peggy cleared her throat and stepped back from him, still meeting his eyes. "Timothy…"

Would she be able to keep up with this enormous change in her life? Would she make the right decisions?

"…I've got…There's something I've got to tell you…"

Was this the right time? The right place? Was there really any choice?

"You're makin' me nervous, sweetheart."

"Oh, there's no need to be nervous, darling. Well…perhaps there is, but not in the way you think." She rested a hand on her stomach.

Dugan seemed to catch on to what she was struggling with, because he became suddenly tense, and his eyes searched her face more intently than they ever had before. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile and he took a slow step towards her. "…Peggy?"

His curious, half-concerned look remained. He wanted to hear it.

"Tell me what it is, sweetheart." He took the hand on her stomach and held it in his own. "Just say it. It's okay."

His voice… He was happy. Relief coursed through her, all the way down to her toes. He suspected what she was about to say, and he was happy, and something about that brought tears to her eyes. They would manage together somehow.

"Timothy…" A smile of her own started to grow. "…I'm going to have a baby." She blinked and a couple tears sprinkled her cheeks.

Peggy was pulled into his arms so instantly that she gave a little squeak in surprise. But just like that, she was being squeezed against his chest, and she felt safer and happier in that moment than she had all her life. Dugan pressed a hand to the back of her head and buried his nose in her hair. He didn't say anything for a minute or two, just held her there, breathing her in.

"You should've woke me up, Peggy," he finally whispered.

Smiling, she wiped her tears away and looked up at him. "Oh, do you really think so?"

Dugan chuckled, his smile filling out into a grin. "Hours ago," he replied. He stroked her face. "…Come here."

The kiss was tender at first, but it didn't take long for it to become deeper and much more serious. When he began kissing her neck, his moustache tickling, she spoke in his ear, trying to wiggle free. "Now Timothy…settle down. We've got work soon."

He laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh sweetheart, we're not going to work today."

* * *

 **Sweet, patient readers :)**

 **Forgive me for taking so long with this. You see, normally I have everything written already before I start putting it up, but these more recent scenes are brand new. But if you'll stick with me, I will put up at least one more. And of course I'm open to requests, as always.**

 **To my most recent anonymous guest, I kept your comment in my inbox all this time so I wouldn't forget to keep writing this story.**

 **Thank you to everyone who comments/favorites/follows. It really keeps me motivated. To anyone reading, I love and appreciate you. Hope you enjoy.**

 **All my love.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Mr. Agent Carter**

 **(Shot Ten)**

He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to go. She yearned for the danger and excitement that she knew the mission would bring. But she knew that she couldn't go—she didn't have a choice—and her disappointment and frustration were evident. To him anyway. He knew how much she disliked sitting at home, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for him to come back.

But they didn't talk about it. What was there to say? She knew better than anyone that, at nearly six months pregnant, the field was no place for her.

"Peggy," he called as he came through the door, "Sweetheart, I'm back." He took off his coat.

"Timothy?" Peggy emerged from the other room immediately, relief overtaking her features.

She was radiant. Just as beautiful and neatly put together as she ever had been, only now there was a round bump beneath her clothing that was too large to be effectively concealed. Not that she had ever tried to conceal it. Coming home to this made Dugan feel warm inside. Warm and very proud.

There was no need for him to coax her over. She was in his arms before he could blink twice. And one inviting kiss later, the questions started to flow.

"How was it? Did it all go as planned? Tell me everything."

"Slow down, Pegs," he laughed, "Let's at least sit down first."

She raised an eyebrow. "Darling, just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I have to be in a constant pose of relaxation."

"Yeah, well I've been on my feet for about fourteen hours, so how about _I_ sit down?"

Her gaze darted away sheepishly for just an instant, and she gave a slight chuckle. "Right, of course," she said, motioning towards the couch.

He laughed and cupped her chin with his hand, kissing her again. "Come on, baby; I'll tell you all about it."

When they settled down, she held his hand, but otherwise sat apart from him, her eyes gleaming with keen, professional interest. She looked ready to conduct an interrogation.

"But first, I wanna hear about the appointment I missed out on yesterday," he said, pulling her closer.

"Oh please," she scoffed, more interested in his information, "It was nothing. A routine checkup. _Boring_ would be a good word for it. We can talk about that later."

He pulled her closer still, holding her against his chest and kissing her forehead despite her rigid posture. Suddenly, Dugan was tired of focusing on the mission he had just completed. It was over, and all he really wanted now was to curl up with his wife and think about the little son or daughter she was carrying for him.

Securing one arm around her shoulders, he let his other hand wander down to her belly, gently running his palm over the thin fabric that separated him from her bare skin. He felt her sigh stubbornly, but her body relaxed against his.

"Tell me about the appointment, sweetheart," he said tenderly.

She thought for a moment. "Well, as I said, it was quite boring. Going in, I already knew there weren't any problems. Physically, I've been feeling very well lately. Wonderful, actually."

She said this with an unmistakable hint of joy in her voice, and the edges of her mouth crept upwards for a second. It was clear that she loved this baby, despite the way it limited her involvement at work, and knowing that took a huge weight off of Dugan's shoulders.

"So of course the doctor gave me a once over, asked me a few questions. Then he said what I knew he'd say, that it was all excellent, that the baby in in perfect health. And finally, he sent me on my merry way." She looked up into his eyes. "So you see, you didn't miss anything exciting."

"Sure I did," he replied, squeezing her shoulder, "Good news from a doctor is always worth getting excited about. Especially about baby Dum Dum."

Peggy smirked, pushing back from him. "Stop calling him that. I know you only do it to irk me, and I simply don't feel like being irked. And anyway, it could be a little girl, you know. And I doubt she'd appreciate being called Dum Dum." She rolled her eyes as she said it.

Dugan chuckled, eyes twinkling. It was so good to be home.

"Ah well, maybe I do like gettin' under your skin a little every once in a while. Keeps things lively around here."

She smiled a little at that. There was a moment's pause. Then she turned to meet his eyes, looking very sly all of a sudden.

"Do you know what? I bet you've been dying to climb into bed this entire time. You must be exhausted."

He shrugged. "Well, I—"

"And I think I know just the thing to relax you." She raised her eyebrows.

She was obviously changing tactics.

How she got him into bed, and as naked as the day he was born, was a bit hazy. But she had him on his back now, and he felt very much at her mercy.

"Timothy, darling," she said softly, hovering over him, "won't you tell me about the mission? I find myself unable to contain my curiosity."

She ran a hand down his chest, sending warm tingles rushing all over his body. He had thought himself too worn out to be seduced like this. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

"You know somethin'? I'm the luckiest man in the world." He reached out for her.

"Yes, dear," she said with a smirk, evading his grasp, "I know." She grabbed his chin rather forcefully then and looked into his eyes. "What were the problems, the obstacles? Surely spending fourteen hours on your feet, there were at least a couple things gone wrong."

"It was nothin' we couldn't handle. Frankie took an unexpected hit while we were in, but he's gonna live." He shrugged, a glimmer of mischief coming into his eyes. "It was routine. Might even call it boring."

She slapped his shoulder and he laughed.

"I designed a great deal of this strategy. You know how much it means to me to know the details."

His smile didn't waver. "I know, baby," he said, managing to get a gentle grip on her, "Guess you'll just have to coax the details outta me."

She gave him another smirk, her frustration slowly becoming evident, but she was unable to hide the fact that she was having fun, too.

He looked her up and down. "You know…this isn't very fair. Why do _you_ still have your clothes on?"

* * *

 **Darling readers,**

 **I am** _ **so**_ **sorry. I've neglected you for too long. Between writing other things and getting married recently, I haven't touched this story in months. Letting a story sit like that is pretty unusual for me, but I originally never expected to do more than eight shots.**

 **But I want you to know that I never just plain forgot about it. I kept your comments in my inbox, so I thought of you a little every day. I'm sorry for dragging this fanfic out so badly, but I swear I will never just up and abandon it. No matter how long it takes, this will come to a satisfying conclusion, and I will try to include all of the requests I get.**

 **You are so very dear to me.**

 **All my love,**

 **LightAlpha25**


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